Rise of The Serpent
by LoireLoa
Summary: Dumbledore is not the only one he ever feared, and Harry may have powers he knows not, but Voldemort still has a few tricks up his sleeve, and he is not above rearranging the timeline to get his way.
1. Intro

**A/N:** I know that I should be working on other things, (and trust me, I am), but this idea just wouldn't leave me alone. Some things to note before we begin:

I do not own _Harry Potter_. The only thing I **do **own is a wonky laptop and an overactive imagination.

The **bulk **of this story takes place during the late 1930s through the mid 1940s. However, the prologue (which this chapter is) is set just after Dumbledore's death; Tom is reading his obituary.

_Thoughts and letters_, "Speech", "Parseltongue". 

I think that's it. As always, read, enjoy, and review!

* * *

**Prologue**

_The only one he ever feared._ I snorted in disgust. _Bullocks. The only one that ever stole from me what was rightfully __**mine. **_I threw the infuriatingly insipid article of _The Daily Prophet_ in the fire. _The only reason that __**I**__ didn't kill him was because… because of her. But no matter. Severus has done for me what I couldn't do myself, disgracing as __**that**__ is, and I no longer have to worry about it. _

The sound of something long and heavy moving across the floor pulled me out of my thoughts.

"Evening, Nagini."

She bobbed her head in greeting. "You are agitated, my friend."

"Only a little."

"The old Headmaster is dead, if it means anything."

"It means a great deal." I reply, stroking her head.

"Too bad he took a piece of us with him. I rather miss it."

"Yes… that did throw a wrench in our plans. However, we have… another way to secure our lives."

"Yes. The other Speaker. As long as he lives…"

"And in the event that he doesn't, we have other… safeguards, as it were."

Nagini laughed. "Yes… won't they be surprised?"

I turned to stare, entranced into the fire. "Surprised… perhaps not. But discouraged…" I looked at Nagini, who was curled around herself on the rug. "Perhaps so…Wormtail!"

"Y-y-yes, my Lord?" he answered, crawling out from whatever corner he'd been lurking in. I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes. _Pitiful… the biggest coward I've ever seen. It's a wonder he wasn't sorted into Hufflepuff._

"Lend me… _your arm._" I replied, pulling my wand from up my sleeve.

"Y-y-yes, Master," he stammered, holding out his arm and kneeling in front of me.

"It is time to call our friends." I watched the Dark Mark writhe on his arm in fascination before the others arrived. _I never get tired of that._

"Greetings, my loyal followers." I said, standing and surveying the crowd. "Tonight, we…"

My eyes frantically searched the crowd. (Not like _they_ knew that. To them I just looked angry.) Finally, I found what I was looking for – or rather, what wasn't there to be found.

"**Severus!**" I bellowed, seething. _He better had not deflected… if he has…_ "Where is he?!"

I stormed forward from my throne, disrupting the ranks in my search for my most prized Potions Master. "Nagini!"

"He is not here Master. His scent and the scent of young Malfoy are both missing."

"**Aaarrrggghhh!"** I yelled furiously. "How **dare** he!" I stalked back to my throne, my robes billowing as I turned to face my fearful followers.

"Malfoy!"

"Yes, my Lord?" he inquired, coming forward and kneeling at my feet.

I looked down at his blonde head dispassionately. "Where is your son?"

"With Severus, my Lord."

I felt my anger rising. _Clearly, I can see that._ "And where," I demanded through clenched teeth, "is _Severus_?"

"I do not know, my Lord."

I raised my wand, and would have cursed Lucius if not for what he said next.

"But perhaps my wife or her sister could tell you. I can't put my finger on just what, but I feel they have been hiding something from me. And by extension, from _you_, my Lord."

I relaxed in my seat and stoked my wand thoughtfully. I could smell Bellatrix's fear from where I was sitting. "Bring me your wife."

"Yes, my Lord."

"And pray that _she_ knows what _you_ do not."

"Of course, my Lord." I waited until Lucius had Apparated away before turning my attention to a more available prey.

"Bellatrix…" I crooned, mockingly sweet.

She hurriedly made her way to the front, and kneeled at my feet. "My Lord?"

"_My Lord_?" I mocked. "You act as though you are unaware of the situation. Weren't you paying attention?"

"Yes, my Lord." The stink of fear rolled off her in droves.

"Hmm… Lucius says that you have been hiding something from me, Bellatrix."

I watched as a single droplet of sweat made its way from her hairline to the tip of her nose. "He lies."

"Does he?" I rummaged through her mind, finding far more that I had assumed would be there.

"Yes. I would never hide anything from you!"

"Liar!" I countered. "You _have_ been hiding something from me! Information… about a little _Unbreakable Vow_, perhaps?"

"My Lord, I have no idea--"

"Crucio!" I watched as she trashed around on the floor. "You know exactly of what I speak!"

"M-Master," she stuttered after I'd lifted the curse, "I did not mean to disobey you. I--"

"Crucio! You knew _exactly_ what you were doing, Bellatrix!"

"M-m-my Lord… please. Have mercy…"

I laughed. "_Mercy_? Never! You have forfeited your life. Narcissa… she is not marked, but she _will_ be punished. Yes… I have something… _special_ for her. But you!" I stood, towering over her as she twitched in the aftermath of the curse.

"Master…" she pleaded, her voice horse from screaming.

"Rodolphus!"

He hurried forward and kneeled. "Yes, my Lord?"

"Your wife has gotten out of hand. Do you agree?"

"Yes, my Lord. She should have never kept this from you. You, who was so kind… releasing us from Azkaban… _I_ would have never--"

"Enough!" I interrupted, not in the mood to be pacified and fawned over. Rodolphus fell silent. I gestured for him to rise, and he hastily complied.

"Dispose of her. I will not tolerate disobedience in my ranks."

"Yes, my Lord." Rodolphus replied, leveling his wand at Bellatrix. "You were beautiful, once, my Bella, but Azkaban has soiled you looks as well as you mind."

"Rodolphus…" she hissed, "You wouldn't dare! You filthy, treacherous--"

"I'm sorry Bella, but the Slytherin in me insists I preserve my own life, over yours."

"Rodolphus!"

"Avada Kedvra."

The light left Bellatrix's eyes, and the color receded from her cheeks.

"Rodolphus."

"Yes my Lord?"

"Dispose of the carcass. I never wish to see it again."

"Of course, my Lord."

I watched stoically as Rodolphus disintegrated her lifeless body with an incendiary spell. "Let that be a lesson to all of you. Disobedience, like failure, will _not_ be tolerated."

This statement was met with several nods and fearful murmurs of agreement. Satisfied, I retired to my throne.

"You are dismissed. Lucius, Narcissa, stay behind. I've something I wish to discuss with you…"


	2. One

**One**

Most would wonder why I am such a heartless killer, but then, _most_ don't have a clue about how I grew up. I would love to say that my mother and father loved me, that I always had everything I ever wanted or needed, but very few things could farther from the truth.

My Muggle fathers walked out on my mother shortly after I was conceived, and I was born in on the steps of church not even a minute before the bells rang in the New Year. My worthless witch of a mother died after I was born because she couldn't be half-assed to save her own life, so instead of a warm, loving home, I had to suffer through seventeen years of abuse in an orphanage.

To say that I had an unhappy childhood would be an understatement.

The woman who ran the orphanage to an instant disliking to me, and would tell me nothing of my mother except that I was "damn lucky I didn't have her sorry looks". I was left to alone for hours on end, even when I was an infant, and was often made to go without meals, baths, and proper medical attention. There were some times when the orphanage would get an influx of children so great that there were four or five of us to a room. It was at times like these when there wouldn't be enough beds or blankets to go around, and we would have to share a bed and rotate the blankets amongst us. Somehow I always got the short end of the stick, and would have to sleep on the hard, dirty floor with nothing to keep me warm but the clothes on my back and the conviction that things couldn't possibly get any worse.

More often than not, I was wrong.

I faced routine beatings from that horrid Muggle woman for as long as I could remember. She would use a stick, or a telephone cord, or a shoe… or anything else she could get her hands on. There were several occasions of broken or bruised limbs, none of which were allowed to heal properly. Or, at least not in the _usual_ manner -- my magic healed me. I was different from all the other children, and even then I knew it. No one _else_ could talk to snakes, or make others do what they wanted just by thinking it. Actually, I figured out that I was… _special_ quite by accident.

One of the other children had been picking on me – yelling insults about my dead mother – and I was yelling at him to stop when the most amazing thing happened: _he stopped talking_. Now, while this isn't amazing in itself, what _was_ amazing is that he didn't seem to realize that he wasn't making any noise. Of course, the warden came ambling along, fool that _she_ was, and I didn't have enough time then to investigate the issue before his voice came back and she sent us all inside. I, however, refused to be discouraged, and took to exploring this phenomenon during my spare time. I finally figured out that in order for me to 'make things happen', I had to do more than simply wish it. There had to be conviction behind my words, and I taught myself to corner my emotions so that I could make others do my bidding. I could even read other peoples' minds if I put enough effort into it.

I was quickly becoming the most accomplished Legilimens of my time, and I was only ten years old.


	3. Two

**A/N:** This chapter takes place in two eras, as noted.

**Two**

_Summer, 1938_

That. Meddling. Old. _Fool_.

I'd just met Dumbledore that morning, and I'd already formed a less-than-favorable opinion of him. He thought I was too corrupt. That I was too evil, too far gone into the shadows to be saved. He'd given up on me from the very first word I'd uttered; pegged me as a Dark-Lord-in-waiting a decided that I should be watched. I could see it in those insufferably twinkling eyes. How _dare_ he give up on me! _ME!_ I'd show him, I'd show _everyone_. I wasn't just some maliciously misguided child, I was a _prodigy_. A god among mortals. But that old _fool_ was too blind to see how powerful I truly was.

No matter, one day he'd see how _special_ I was. One day, after I'd remade the world to my liking, when I'm so revered and my power so awesome that those _pathetic_ mortals would refrain from speaking my name lest they incur my wrath, he will look back and regret _ever_ crossing me! No one writes off Tom Riddle, _no one_. Especially not meddling old fools who couldn't see talent if it hexed them in the face.

After a few deep breaths, I managed to calm myself. It wouldn't do to become overexcited. I would have plenty enough time to plot that sodding old codger's downfall later.

Right now, I have to get to London and acquire my things.

LVLV

"Excuse me," I asked a graying man with a beard as I approached the bar, "Do you know where the entrance to the Alley is? I'm a first-year, you see, and I've never been this way on my own before."

"Certainly, young man," the barkeep responded, putting away his rag and showing me through a door into a courtyard of sorts. "To get into the Alley, you just touch your wand here, here, here, and here." He indicated the spots with his own wand.

"Thank you sir."

"Of course, lad."

I grimaced, wanting to tell him to never call me 'lad' again. It was so…. Degrading. For young children, I could understand, but for me… I was almost an adult! I certainly didn't _belong_ to anyone.

_I'll never belong to anyone._ I vowed to myself, _especially not that meddling old fool. _

I walked into the Alley and looked around. I'll admit I'd expected more. It was like I'd walked into a quaint tourist town. The shops were relatively small in stature, the only exceptions being Gringotts and Flourish and Blotts, both of which were just as high and grand as their Muggle counterparts, and everyone was dressed in robes. I remember thinking that it was like they were all stuck in the Middle Ages!

_June, 1996_

"I feel invincible."

"You _are_ My Lord."

"Yes Lucius… I am." I walked over to him grabbed a fistful of his white-blonde hair. "And _your wife_ had better have good news."

Lucius said nothing. No doubt he'd surmised that anything he could say would be inadequate. The door opened to admit the Lestrange brother.

"My Lord," Rodolphus called, "she has returned."

My hand dropped from Lucius' hair. "Does she have it?"

"Yes, My Lord," Rabastan answered, "It appears so."

"Appearances can be deceiving. I want to _see_ it."

"Of course, My Lord. Shall I show her to the study?"

"Yes." I grabbed Lucius by the collar of his disgustingly pompous robes. "Pray she has what I'm looking for."


	4. Three

**A/N:** This chapter's a little sappy, I do admit. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

**Three**

_June 1996_

I stared down in barely contained excitement at the object that Narcissa handed me. "I trust that you handled this with the _utmost_ care?"

"Yes, My Lord." She replied, head bowed.

"And you used a proper amount of… discretion?"

"Of course, My Lord."

"You will do me one other favor."

"Anything, My Lord."

"You will turn back the hands of time, and do everything within your power – short of fornication-- to seduce Sirius Black to our side. You will convince him to remain the Secret Keeper for the Potters, and when they fall, you will convince him to fight Dumbledore for custody of the boy. Take this letter." I said, handing her a sealed envelope. "When I fall, give this letter to your past self. Make sure to impress upon her the urgency with which she is to assist Black. There is another letter enclosed for Lucius. Deliver it to him unopened."

"Yes, My Lord."

"You will leave immediately, and return after you deliver the letter to yourself. _Do not disappoint me_. This mission is of the utmost importance to our cause, and if you fail me, you may not live to tell the tale."

"Should I try to keep my sister and the Lestranges out of Azkaband, My Lord?" she inquired quietly.

"If you do as I say, they should never see the inside of that wretched place. Remember, even though you are in the past, I will be watching you."

LVLV

_October 1942_

"Is this seat taken?"

I remember looking up from my studies to see what I still consider to be the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid eyes on, bar none.

"No." I said, shuffling my belongings over on the bench to make more room for her.

"I don't want to bother you. I know you must be really busy. I can sit somewhere else if you want…" she said, turning away.

"No, no." I hastily replied, making even more room. "It's alright. I don't need all this space – I was only reading, after all."

"If you're sure…" she hesitated, tucking her long black hair behind her ear.

"Yeah... yeah I am."

"Thanks."

We sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, me reading, her writing some assignment or another.

"My name is Eileen, by the way."

"Tom." I said, shaking her hand. "Tom Riddle. Is there a surname that accompanies that, Eileen?"

"Prince. My last name is Prince." She said, twisting a lock of her glossy black hair about her finger.

"Well it's nice to meet you, Eileen."

"Thank you." She turned back to her studies.

"Preparing for OWLs already?"

She looked up from her book and studied me, her blue eyes so dark they appeared black. "Why do you ask?" she inquired, having found whatever it was she had been searching my dark grey eyes for.

"Just making talk, I suppose. I'm studying for mine, and so I thought you might be too." She nodded. "Are you?"

"No," she answered, "I'm only in my fourth year."

"Oh. Do you think you'll make Prefect next year?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure if I'll be up to the task. I'm already Captain of the Gobstones Team."

"Are you?"

"Yes. Are you on any teams?"

"Quidditch. I'm not Captain though."

"Are you a Prefect?"

"Yes. I hope to be Head Boy."

"Really? That's quite ambitious of you."

"I know – it's what us Slytherins are known for. I'm at the top of my year, so as long as I do well on my OWLs and NEWTs, I shouldn't have any problems."

'Mmm' was all she said. I was trying to figure out how to impress her when she turned to me and said:

"I can read minds, you know."

I stared at her. _I thought __**I **__was the only student who could do that! Amazing!_

"That's…" I cleared my throat, stalling for time as I searched for something to say. "… _incredible_!"

"Really? You really mean that?" she asked, hiding behind her hair.

"Of course! Why on earth _wouldn't_ I mean it?"

"Well… every time I tell someone that they get… weird. Like they're afraid that I'm going to jump into their head and invade their privacy."

I nodded. "I understand. But don't worry." I leaned in close to her, as if sharing a secret, and whispered, "I can read minds too."

Her beautiful eyes widened in surprise. "Really?" she asked in wonder.

I nodded.

"Then tell me, what am I thinking?"

I rolled my eyes. "Stop being lazy and read your own mind."

She laughed. Her laughter was high and breathy and tinkling, reminding me at once of the noise that those tiny Christmas bells make. It was soft and alluring, like gypsy bells, and I felt like I wanted to listen to it forever. It was pure, and sweet, and beautiful -- just like her. She smiled at me, bright and sunny and genuine. I felt like Christmas had come early, just for me.

"Eileen?" I asked, heart pounding in my chest and getting the better of my good sense.

"Yes?" she answered, leaning close enough for me to detect a trace of… something. _Honey and vanilla and… some kind of flower, I think._ It was intoxicating.

"If…" I started, unsure of what exactly I wanted to say. "I know we've only just met, but… If after I graduate… that is to say, after _we_ graduate… if you wanted, maybe we could… be together?" I looked at her, desperately hoping that my words didn't sound as stupid to her as they did to me in my head. _Smooth Tom, really smooth._

"Well…" she said after what seemed like an eternity. "That's a long time from now."

My heart made the trek from my throat to my bowels in record time. I tried not to let on how disappointed I was, but I know she could hear it in my voice when I muttered "Oh… I see."

"It's not… Tom." she said, grabbing my arm and locking my gaze with hers. "I only meant that… well…"

I looked away. "It's okay, I… I understand."

"No! Tom, I just… why can't we be together now?"

My head snapped up and my eyes sought out hers, holding them, _reading_ them, ascertaining the truth. There was no lie in her mind, and nothing in her heart but sincerity.

"What day is it?" I asked, dazed.

"October 31st. It's Halloween. Why?" she replied. "Tom? What is it?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. I just… though Christmas had come early this year, that's all."


	5. Four

**Four**

_August 1959_

She was leaving me. Eileen was leaving me, and getting married.

She was carrying _my_ child, yet marrying someone else. Some common _Muggle_.

"Eileen… why?" I asked again, dumbfounded. The day was warm and the sun was bright. It seemed like Mother Nature was mocking me. _What did I ever do to deserve this?_

"Tom… I just…" she twisted her hair around her finger. Her eyes were not sparkling, and her face was solemn. She'd closed off herself from me. _Again_.

"Eileen…" I grabbed her arm, turned her to face me and implored her to look at me. "If this is about my trip to the Continent then I won't go. I know you can't travel with a baby on board, but that's okay. It can wait – we've already been once before. Abraxas will understand. We could--"

"It's not that."

I stared at her, uncomprehending. "Then what is it?"

She didn't answer me. Gods, she wouldn't even _look_ at me.

"Don't… Eileen… it's not… someone--"

"No! No. The baby… the baby is yours, Tom." She refused to look me in the eye.

"Well if it's not that, then what is it? I told you, Albania can wait. We can--"

"My parents would rather me marry someone else."

I sat there, stunned. "But… but I thought your parents _liked_ me?"

"They do! They do… they just…" she sighed despondently.

"They just what? I mean, I know I look… _different_ now, but surely that's no cause for all _this_?" I asked. There was a bad feeling brewing in my bowels, and somehow I knew that whatever she said next I would not like.

"My parents… they… think very highly of the Headmaster, you know that. And he -- Professor Dumbledore, that is – he said--"

"What did he say?" I growled. Already my blood was beginning to boil. _That old fart never did like me. He took it as some personal affront that I even __**existed**_"What did he say?!" I asked when she failed to answer me.

"He says that you're an orphan."

She was stalling, and I could tell. _Whatever it is can't be __**that**__ bad… right?_

"That's nothing you and your family didn't already know. _Tell me what he said, Eileen_!"

"He told my father that you were at Hogwarts on scholarship. He said that you wouldn't have enough money to support me and the baby."

I hissed in displeasure. _That conniving old…_

"He said that you were too evil and arrogant and power-crazed to ever love anyone other than yourself." She finished quietly.

"What?" I seethed. I was… furious doesn't cover it in the _least_ bit. Enraged. _Murderous_. My mind whirred with plans of revenge wrought with pain and humiliation. _When I get my hands on him_…

"Tom?" Eileen said. She sounded worried.

"And he listened? No," I shouted, cutting off anything she might have said, "you _let _them? You just let yourself be sold like a cow, like a _slave_ to the highest bidder?"

"Tom, I--"

"What about our _love_, Eileen? What about our _child_? Our son? You would just… just give that up? Gift some other man with your loyalty and devotion, with _our child_? You don't even _know_ him! Who is he?!" I yelled, my heart breaking inside my chest.

"Tom... Tom, stop!" she cried.

But I did not listen – anger took hold of my heart and made it cold and unyielding. "Tell me who he is so I can rip him limb from limb! Tell me! Is he some distant relative of Dumbledore's?"

"No!" she cried again, grabbing my arm. "No! Tom you shan't! Promise me you won't!"

"Eileen… Eileen, this man – this nameless faceless man -- is taking away our future! You cannot ask me to sit back and watch it happen! I won't! I won't stand for it! I'll kill him and Dumbledore both! And when I do--"

"You will never see your son again!" she cried. I stared at her, shocked to my core.

"Eileen, you can't mean that…"

"I do! You will harm no one; kill _no one_ if you ever want to see your son!"

"Eileen…" I whispered, at a loss for words.

"Promise me." She pled, tears running like rivers down her beautiful face. "Promise me you will harm neither Tobias nor the Headmaster. Promise me Tom, that our son will not have to bear such shame. That _I_ will not have to bear it."

I could not refuse her grief-stricken face, nor could I take her threat lightly. I took the Un-Breakable Vow that same day.

Years later, it would almost be my undoing.


	6. Five

_October 31__st__, 1964_

"What have you done to him!" I bellowed.

"The little wretch of a bastard deserved it!" came the angry reply. "He's my boy and I'll punish him the way I see fit!"

A child, _my_ child, cowered in the corner, crying softly.

"HE IS NOT YOUR SON!" I screamed furiously. "You may have married Eileen, but he is not yours! He was never yours! How dare you raise your hand to him!"

Tobias spat at my feet. "If you want him so bad, why don't you take him with you! _I_ don't want him! Neither does she!"

I turned, my robes billowing around me, to face Eileen. "Is this true?" I whispered, my voice cold and calculating. "Did you utter such words?"

She looked away from me. "He reminds me of us. Of what we used to have."

I stared at her, my disbelief quickly growing into rage. "Then you should cherish him _more_! You should love him _more_!"

"It hurts me to see him, when he looks so much like you."

I saw red. "You don't want him?" She wouldn't meet my eyes. I could not believe it; I did not _want_ to believe it. My Eileen, my heart, had forsaken the last of what she had left of our love. It was more than I could bear.

"Very well. Severus," I said, turning to my precious, innocent son, "come. You will not stay with these _monsters_ any longer."

"I am not a monster!" Eileen cried. "Tom, how could you call me that?"

"How? _How_? How could _you_ stand by and let your _husband_ strike him? How you let harm come to the only thing that you have left of _us_, Eileen? _Tobias_," I spat venomously, "may have dealt the blows, but your inaction, your willingness to stand by and allow it, has caused him suffering just the same!"

She hung her head in shame. "Forgive me, Tom, for not being braver than I am."

"It is not me you have slighted. Come Severus," I said, gathering my dear child into my arms, "it is time for us to leave this place."

Eileen, that treacherous, cowardly woman, followed us out the door and into the yard. "When will you return? When will I see you next?"

"Never." I called, turning on the spot. _Not if I have anything to say about it._

LVLV

_November 14, 1965_

"Father?"

"Yes?" I said, looking up from my potion.

"Will I be as handsome as you one day?"

I sighed. "Come here, Sev."

Severus climbed up onto the stool next to mine. I touched his face, tracing the evidence left behind by that disgusting Muggle.

"Will I, father?"

"I… I wish I could say that you will but… Tobias… he has spoiled your looks."

"When he broke my nose, you mean?"

"Yes."

"Can't you fix it?"

"I wish I could. I would try, but I'm no healer, Sev."

"Try it!"

"I'd probably only make it worse."

"No way! You're the most awesome wizard there is! You can do _anything_!"

He said it with so much conviction that, for a moment, I believed him.

"I can't do everything, Severus."

"You can _try_."

I smiled sadly. _See what you have done, you old fool?_ "I wouldn't want to hurt you." I said, stroking his hair.

"Oh." He was quiet for a moment, then: "Father?"

"Yes?"

"Can I be named after you?" he asked, hopefully.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm names after my father, and he was a cruel and heartless man. I don't want you to share a name with someone like that."

"Oh. But then…"

"Yes?"

"How come I have Tobias' name?"

I seethed. "Your mother gave it to you while I was away. Believe me, _I_ would have _never_ named you after that man."

"Can I change it, then?"

"To what?"

"I dunno. Something to do with you, I guess."

"I would like that."

Severus grinned happily. "So," he said, peering over the edge of the cauldron, "what are you making?"

LVLV

We spent the next three years like that, brewing potions and such. I gave him everything he wanted, and when I went back to the Continent, I took him with me. We traveled all over Transylvania, Germany, Albania. We witnessed countless rituals and studied some of the most ancient magics – many of which were all but forgotten in modern society. I introduced him to my acquaintances from my previous trips, and he absorbed everything they had to teach him, and quite a few things he was to know nothing about.

Severus was a sharp boy, his observational skills keen enough to let him listen in on the most secure of conversations. Many parents would be angry, but not me. I was proud. If I were the King of Serpents, then surely my Severus was the Prince. He followed me everywhere, always eager to learn, and I could not deny his curiosity – not even when he asked to learn the Forbidden Arts. The Dark Arts are not for those faint of heart, and certainly not for children, but Severus did not shy away from them. Everything I did, he wanted to do; every path I walked, he wanted to walk as well. I admit it was intoxicating to have someone follow me so faithfully, and nothing was more precious to me than he was.

But good things never last, not for me, and not for Severus either, it seemed.

LVLV

_December 3__rd__, 1968_

It was snowing again. Severus loved the snow, and on this particular morning, he was outside, building a snow-wizard (for he shared me dislike of Muggles). I was in the middle of _Dark Times and Darker Arts_ when I heard shouting. Tossing the book aside, I hurried to the front door, only to collide with Severus upon opening it.

"Father! Father!" He cried, clutching my robe. "Help!"

"What on earth is going on?"

"The men! They're trying to take me away!"

I looked past him to see several figures heading towards us.

"Get inside, Sev, and hide. Whatever happens, don't come out until I call for you." He only nodded and ran into the house.

"Tom," said one of the figures, "Eileen has sent us to retrieve her son."

I sneered. _Dumbledore, I should have known._ "That wretch forfeited any claim she had over Severus when she let that man strike him."

"She wants him back Tom. It's best that you hand him over."

I drew my wand and surveyed him coldly. "I will _never_ send him back there."

"Very well." Dumbledore said, drawing his own wand. "I did warn you."

The duel between myself and the three of them was long and fierce. I had just managed to fell the two Aurors when Dumbledore caught me with a bludgeoning hex from behind.

"You will never tear my son from me!" I snarled, standing.

"We already have." He said, looking behind me.

There, in the arms of a young Auror with stringy, brown hair, was my son. I whipped my wand at Dumbledore, my eyes darting between the two.

"Unhand my son, or the old fool does."

The man looked at Dumbledore, uncertain.

"Take him to his mother, Alastor. She's expecting him."

The man only nodded and turned on his heel and disappearing, but not before I took off his leg.

"Bastard!" I yelled, turning on the spot only to feel my Apparation blocked. I spun to face Dumbledore.

"Crucio!" I raged. As he fell to the ground writhing, I felt a searing pain across my chest. _The Vow!_ I realized, lifting the curse. The moment I did, a green jet of light zoomed toward me, forcing me to hastily move aside. I fumed. "Avada Ked--"

A pain like non I'd felt before ripped through my chest, forcing me to my knees. I was unable to finish the curse, and he knew it.

"Tom is no threat to me." He said. "Gentlemen."

I watched, helpless, as they Apparated away.

_If I ever find a way around this Vow, you're a dead man._


	7. Six

_July 1996_

"Severus."

"My Lord?"

"Walk with me."

"Of course, my Lord."

I led him out into the graveyard adjoining my scum-of-a-father's house. It was cool, this night, and light mist was already forming. The half moon shone dim – or perhaps that was simply a trick of the light – the Dementor's mist masking its true glory. I waited until I was certain that all the others had departed before I spoke.

"Severus, my son."

"Yes, Father?" he replied, his voice carrying to my ears alone.

"The old man is dead?"

"Yes."

"I know that you did not want to be the one to do the deed, Severus."

"Father--"

"Never you mind. I understand." I turned my eyes heavenward. "I never wanted for you to soil your soul – especially not like this."

He hung his head and was silent for a moment. "I could feel it tearing, Father."

I nodded. "Next full…"

"Yes?"

"The boy – Malfoy – keep him inside. I have an attack planned for that night. We will free Lucius from Azkaban. Take him to the cottage in Romania – you remember where?"

"Near the Adriatic?"

"Yes."

"Of course. I spent the best years of my life there – how could I forget?"

I smiled. "It's been such a long while. I'd thought you'd have forgotten. I will have Narcissa join you when she returns."

"How will we get there? I'm a wanted man, now."

"You will portkey to Perdu Festung. Igor will get you to the Northern border. From there, you're on your own."

"Karkaroff? I thought he was dead!"

I grinned. "Feigning is more like it. He's too useful to the cause to kill."

"Is he really?"

"Yes – more so now that he's been declared dead. Nobody's looking for a dead man, after all."

LVLV

_December 31, 1968_

It had only been a few weeks since Severus was stolen from me, but to me it felt like years. Abraxas -- dear, foolish Abraxas -- promised to get him back for me, but his every attempt was foiled by that _meddling old fool_. One attempt almost worked, but he was caught while crossing into Italy from France. Abraxas – my best friend if I ever had one – was killed, and Severus was taken back to Eileen. His funeral was held on my birthday, and I swore above his casket that I would help Brigitte raise Lucius in his stead. 

After Abraxas's nearly-successful kidnapping of Severus, Dumbledore began to keep a closer eye on him. There were guards around the house now, and my contact with my son was restricted to letters written in code.

_January 1, 1969_

Father, 

I hate it here! I wish that you would come and take me away. Tobias has gotten both better and worse. He no longer strikes me, but turns his anger on Eileen instead. I am afraid. What if next time she doesn't wake up? I don't know what I would do if she died and it was just him with me here. Please, can't I stay with you? 

Your son,

Severus Thomas

_January 2, 1969_

Severus, 

I wish I could save you from the Hound, my son. The Lion stalks my every move, and now that Patron Blanche lies still, there is little I can do through others. I will try my best, my son. I ask you to be patient. I await your next owl.

Love,

Father

_January 5, 1969_

Father,

Eileen has taken ill, and I'm not sure she will recover soon. The Hound has not paid me much mind, but I feel it is only because he is so preoccupied. The Lion has visited twice now, and I think that the Hound is afraid of its wrath, should it turn its eyes on me. I am sorry for Patron Blanche. I do not wish to cause so much trouble for you, or for Lady Armynel. I would like to see you, if I can. 

Love,

S. Thomas

_January 9, 1969_

Severus,

Happy Birthday, my son! I wish that I could be there with you this day. Since I cannot, here is a gift for you.

A tap, a touch, a whispered vow;

A spiral shall begin.

And when the spiral deigns to stop,

You I shall see again.

Let me know if the Hound charges – I have a bone for him, and not the kind he'll bury. Be safe, my son, and remember: if I am the King, you are the Prince.

Father

LVLV

The year continues this way, with covert visits every month via portkey. It was not the ideal situation, but it was all I could do, at the time. 

In March 1970, Eileen was struck dead by Tobias during an arguement. Despite my status as Severus' birth father (and Tobias' record of domestic violence), I was, after much lobbying by Albus Dumbledore, denied custody of my son. It was then that I began my political campaign to rid the wizarding world of its Muggle influences. Using Eileen's death (though I no longer loved her) to support my cause, I made great headway that year, and gained a far greater following than I had believed possible at the time. By the end of the summer, nearly all of the Pure- and Half-blooded citizens of the British wizarding community had rallied behind me, and it looked as though I would be a definite contender for Minister come next election.

My luck, as we all know, was not to last. People started disappearing – Muggle-borns, mostly – and because of my blatant stance against them, I became the top suspect. I was dropped from the election ballot shortly after the rumors began, and resorted to… _other_ means to achieve my goals. I began an underground society known as the Knights of Walpurgis that sought to contain the growing Muggle threat. Lady Brigitte Armynel – Abraxas' widow – funded the movement, and so the first of many years of sly protest had begun. I courted the lycanthropes and vampires as allies, playing on their burning thirst for equality in a world where Muggles were given more freedoms than they. Then, once my ranks had grown enough to challenge Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, the attacks began.

My letters to Severus were exceptionally coded now, and I ordered him to burn them once read to keep Dumbledore from discovering my plans. 

_October 27, 1970_

Severus,

The Boogey Man shall rise with the moon, this full. Do not linger after Helios's last breath, for he will commit the sins of Nightmares, and those who stay to watch Selene's awakening shall be his unknowing prey.

I sent him many letters just like this one, warning him to stay inside during attacks. It is only because Dumbledore never suspected that I would divulge my plans to a child that we, the Death Eaters (a name that Severus insisted was more menacing than Knights of Walpurgis), were as successful as we were. 

Once he went to Hogwarts, everything would change.


	8. Seven

**A/N:** Sorry it's been such a long wait, I had a really hard time writing this for some reason. And yes, I know it's relatively short. Hopefully I'll be able to make it up next chapter.

_August 31, 1971_

I hated this, and I hated Dumbledore for making it this way. _I_ should have been the one standing on Platform 9 ¾, waving farewell to my son as it faded form view. _I_ should have been the one to take him shopping for his school supplies, and listening to his unveiled wonderment at the array of ingredients stocked at the Apothecary. But I wasn't.

Dumbledore had lobbied for a restraining order against me on Severus's behalf, claiming that I was 'too dangerous' to be within 100 meters of my own child. What right did he have to make such a decision? None! Yet the fools in the Ministry all but soiled themselves so happy they were to do his bidding. Nothing but a bunch boot-licking incompetents, the lot of them. _No matter_, I thought, _Lucius will look out for him if I can't._ I smiled to myself. No matter what Dumbledore did, or how hard he protested, he had no jurisdiction as far as the Malfoys were concerned, and therefore could do _nothing_ to prevent Severus from spending the weekends at their ancestral home. Brigitte was quick to feed him up and heal any of the injuries that he acquired by Tobias' hand, and she loved him nearly as much as she loved Lucius. The two boys were like brothers, and reminded me painfully of the way Abraxas and I had been as children. _Abraxas, _I mused solemnly, _I __**will**__ see our dreams realized, even if it kills me._

_September 1, 1971_

Father,

I got in! I got into Slytherin! Isn't it wonderful? That girl, Lily, got into Gryffindor. I wonder if she'll still be friends with me, now that we're in rival houses? She told me that she's Muggleborn, but I just can't see it. She looks a lot like a Prewett to me. Maybe she's adopted, or was switched at birth? I sent you a picture of her – did you get it? Doesn't she look like a Prewett, Father?

I saw Lucius today! He's in Slytherin too. No surprise, really. Did you know he's a Prefect? He said that he's hoping to be Head Boy next year. I think that would be smashing!

Professor Slughorn – he's our Head of House – is calling for lights out now. Classes start tomorrow – I'll write you again after.

Love,

S. Thomas, the Half-Blood Prince

_September 1, 1971_

Severus,

Congratulations! I knew you would get into Slytherin! It is our ancestor's House, after all. How is Lucius? Not causing trouble, I hope. You two boys look out for one another as best you can – it is almost certain that Dumbledore will be against you for being so close to me.

Yes, Lily _does_ look a bit like a Prewett. She has the same hair and bone structure, I think. Her eyes are green, though, and I've never know a Prewett to have green eyes before. I'll ask around if you really want, but don't get your hopes up. She may be Muggleborn, just like she claims.

Horace Slughorn is your Head of House? I didn't think he still _taught_, let alone at Hogwarts. You look out for him. He's not dangerous, but he is friendly with the Headmaster. Try to stay on his good side, if you can. Horace, is an invaluable resource – any Dark Arts that I didn't learn on my travels was learnt from him, however unknowingly. I'll send you a box of crystallized pineapples if you're having trouble. He likes them, and anyone that indulges him is sure to make his list of favorites.

What is this 'Half-Blood Prince' rubbish? You know full well your ancestry! Why you would want to deny it is beyond me. I know we haven't spent too much time together these past few months, but really Severus! One would think you were ashamed of me! This is Dumbledore's doing, isn't it? Meddling old codger.

I await your next owl. (And it better explain this 'Half-Blood Prince' rubbish!)

Love always,

Father


	9. Eight

**A/N: **Just a heads up: this chapter is the last chapter that can be considered (somewhat) canon-compliant. Ergo, I have decided to write a sequel.

**Eight**

_September 3, 1971_

Father,

Don't get your knickers in twist, it's only a name. Lucius says that it's catchy, and just a little bit ominous. I'll explain it, since it bothers you so much. I don't mean half-wizard when I say 'Half-Blood', I mean half-Slytherin. You should know what I mean by Prince, it was your idea after all. So really, it's not me being ashamed of my heritage at all. I'm actually honoring you, but Dumbledore won't think so. He'll probably take the obvious meaning and look no farther than that.

In other news, classes have been brilliant! History is a bit of a bust, but Charms and Potions are excellent! I don't have Transfiguration until later today, and I hope that Lucius is wrong and it isn't anything like Defense – Professor Toke doesn't do much of anything except tell us about how he saved a bunch of Muggles from a dragon in the '30s. Completely useless if you ask me.

Well, I've got to go – we have flying lessons next, and Transfiguration after. I'll write you again over the weekend.

Love,

Severus Thomas, the Half-Blood Prince

LVLV

_July 15, 1996_

"House of Serpents." I stepped into the green flames at the old Riddle house, and when I stepped out of them, I wasn't even on the Isle.

A house elf appeared to take my cloak. "Welcome back to Albania, Master. Would you like a refreshment?"

"Yes, the usual. Where is my son?"

"In the drawing room with the other guest and Master Karkaroff. Shall I call him to the study?"

"No… I think I shall join them."

"Yes Master." The elf said, popping away to wherever it is that elves stayed when they weren't needed. I strode down the hall, robes swirling around me like and ominous black storm cloud. I threw open the doors to the drawing room upon reaching them, startling the inhabitants.

"My Lord." Igor said, jumping to his feet, all the while gesturing the Malfoy boy to do the same.

"My Lord." The boy murmured, fear evident in his voice.

Severus remained seated. "Father."

"Severus, Igor." I said, settling into my favorite chair. "Malfoy, come here."

The boy silently made his way over to me and kneeled at my feet. "Yes Master?" he asked, eyes never leaving the floor.

"I had your aunt Bellatrix disposed of for her incompetence, did you know that?" I said, stroking my wand.

"No, sir. I hadn't heard."

"I see." I gazed down on the boy's platinum locks, and a memory of Lucius taking my Mark sprang to mind. "Look at me." I commanded. The boy raised his head, his eyes fixing themselves on a spot somewhere on my chest. I chuckled. "You look so much like you father, yet you harbor none of his brazenness." I patted the top of his head fondly. "Relax, young dragon. I have not intention of punishing you."

His eyes sought out mine, and I saw him relax at the sincerity that he must have found there. "Thank you, Master." He breathed.

"You know, technically, we're related. My son is your Godfather, and I am your father's Godfather. Interesting, no?"

The boy nodded cautiously, clearly unsure of how to respond.

"Have a seat next to Igor, Draco, and some tea while we await your Father's arrival." I watched amused, as the boy perked up at the mention of his father. _It seems like he is every bit as inspired by Lucius as Severus was by me. _

LVLV

_September 22, 1971_

Father,

I _hate_ him! Hate, hate, hate, _hate_! Why Dumbledork even allows them to _exist_ is beyond me! James Potter and Sirius Black… if they don't leave me alone they'll be _black_ alright – black around the eyes! They're always picking on me, singling me out because _Dumbledore_ doesn't fancy me as much as he does _them_. He let's them get away with everything! And that other boy, Lupin, is nothing but a pushover. He's just glad that he _has_ friends, Pettigrew too. Potter and Black are bullies, and Lupin and Pettigrew are losers wanting to be accepted. Wastes of space the lot of them.

Father, can't I _please_ retaliate? Just a little? I promise I won't do anything too bad. Just a Stinging Hex or a Tripping Jinx, I promise. I won't use any Dark Arts at all, honest.

Your Son,

Severus

_September 25, 1971_

Severus,

If they continue to harass you and your professors make no move to deter or punish them, then you have every right to defend yourself. _Defend_, Severus, I don't want you to attack them without due provocation. You are a Slytherin, therefore you must think like one. Acting brazenly with naught but your emotions for guidance is not the way of our ancestors. You must be cunning and resourceful, but above all else you _must not be seen_. The world is already wary of those who fly the serpent's colors, Severus. To give them a reason for suspicion is to paint a target on your back.

Tread carefully my son, and do not let your emotions blind you.

Love,

Father

_October 1, 1971_

Father,

I was given my first detention today, but I don't want you to worry. It was only Slughorn, and only because I called Black a rather nasty word when he added the powdered root of asphodel too soon. I don't know why Slughorn partnered me with him – he knows that we don't get along. Probably Dumbledore's doing. Anyway, it wasn't that bad – we only had to clean cauldrons, and compared to what Tobias considers punishment, it didn't really feel like punishment at all.

Can you send me that crystallized pineapple? Slughorn's got a little 'Slug Club' for those who show aptitude in potions (and those who know important people) and he's having a Halloween party. I think the sweet would be just the thing to make up for my actions during his class.

Lucius says 'hello', and we both want to know if you will be able to stop by for the winter hols. Lucius says that Lady Brigitte is making treacle tart special just for us. Say you'll come? It wouldn't be the same without you.

Love,

The Half-Blood Prince

_October 2, 1971_

Severus,

Here is the pineapple. And yes, I will come.

Father

LVLV

"Lucius," I said gesturing the house elf to busy itself elsewhere, "I'm glad to have you back."

"Glad to be back, old man." He said with a smirk. "I really don't think that Azkaban agrees with my complexion."

I shook my head in amusement. "Still as vain as ever, I see. It's nice to know that some things never change. How did things go?"

"Better than we planned." Rabastan answered, falling into step beside us. "The dementors gave us their full cooperation, and the Ministry is unaware that anyone has escaped. They won't realize that the prisoner in the cell is one of their own until the Polyjuice wears off around dawn. By then it will be too late to track us, even if they could. We were careful to use the magic only when necessary, lest we leave traces."

I nodded and clasped Rabastan's shoulder in gratitude. "Excellent. I knew you were right for the job. How is your brother?"

"Much better now that Bella's not around to breathe down his neck at every turn. I think that he has his sight set on the Zambini widow, actually."

"What about you?" Lucius inquired. "Or are you still torn up over Andromeda?"

"We had a good thing. Too bad that Tonks fellow had to come along and ruin it. Muggles," he shrugged, "I guess it's true what they say: there really is no accounting for taste."

LVLV

_October 15, 1971_

Father,

Dumbledore is up to something. I think it has to do with you. He's been very friendly towards me, and I swear that he's been trying to use Legilimency when he thinks I'm otherwise preoccupied. I've never been gladder that you taught me to occlude than I have been this past week. I don't have much time to write you – I have Herbology next, and we'll be working with aconite so I _must_ be on time. I just wanted to warn you to keep a close eye on our heirlooms if you aren't already. I think he's on to you.

Severus

I crushed the letter in may hand and threw it into the fire. _So, he thinks he's on to something, does he?_ I laughed, highly amused. Severus was too young to understand the finer parts of espionage and misdirection, but I could see the old coot's actions for what they were. He was spending more time with Severus with the intention of having him act exactly as he had, in hopes that I would rush to secure my Horcuxes and therefore betray their location. _Not in this lifetime, you old fool. I've hidden them all in places that you would never expect too look, and the last one will be right under your nose._ Smiling, I dashed off a quick note to my son.

Severus,

do not worry yourself over my well-being, nor over the well-being of our heirlooms. They are all safely tucked away in Gringotts, and only a fool would try to remove them from there.

Sincerely,

Lord Voldemort

LVLV

The next morning found me in tears with mirth, with the _Daily Prophet_ splayed on the table in front of me. The front page was covered in a large, moving picture of Aurors milling about Diagon Alley, the caption underneath betraying the source of my amusement.

**Attempted Bank Robbery Thwarted By Dragon: Goblins Furious!**

_That idiot. _I mused,_ As if I would really make orchestrating my downfall that simple. _

Shaking my head at the old fool's tactics, I slit open the only other article of mail for that morning. It was a letter, and it was addressed in green ink with my Mark stamped into the wax seal. I unfolded it gingerly, wondering what Brigitte could possibly need (as she was the only one allowed to utilize such a stamp) and was surprised beyond description at the date written at the top.

_June 1, 1996_.

"A letter from the future… how very odd." I murmured.

_To my Illustrious Past Self, _it read, _I am writing this because our initial plan of action has failed, and in order to achieve what we set out to do, you must take different action than I know you are prepared to. My faithful servant is in your time, and even as I write this, she is taking action to ensure our success. You will meet with a setback on October 31, 1981, but this is not cause for concern; this event will be part of a prophecy, and so is unavoidable. Bring both Black heirs into our fold, and when the time comes, choose the Potter child. _

_I will work in my time, and if you work in yours, we cannot fail._

_The Lord of Darkness, the King of Serpents, I shall not be denied. All my foes, all my critics, shall die or stand beside. _


End file.
